That’s one of the big questions in England at the moment as the national team crumble and local fans experience the wrath of European-style policing. So, why is so much time, effort, money and blood spilled over 22 men chasing a ball?
Could it be the atmosphere created by 50,000 fans chanting songs and screaming for their team of multi-millionaires? Could it be the sight of sportsmen in their prime showing individual and combined skill that youngsters dream of? Is it just pure escapism? Maybe the chance of seeing grown men cry is too much to pass up. Or is it merely a nice way to let off some steam?
I don’t know what is, but whatever it is, I love it.
A baying crowd singing to the beat of your heart, real hairs on the back of your neck time.
The moment when the game opens up and right in front of your eyes it all comes together in one frame. The speed… the exhilaration…the brilliance...
… the chance for millions of fan around the world to see and enjoy your pictures as they eat their breakfast or head to work here and abroad.
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